When Dean Winchester Prays
by everyone'ssister
Summary: Tag for 11.20 Dean is finally desperate enough to shout an, albeit, rude prayer to the big man upstairs. But what about the amulet? And what about Amara's promise to Dean that he will be spared?
1. Chapter 1

Tag for 11.20 Dean is finally desperate enough to shout an, albeit, rude prayer to the big man upstairs. What about the amulet? And what about Amara's promise to Dean that he will be spared?

WHEN DEAN WINCHESTER PRAYS

God, or Chuck (we should probably do what he wants) was, true to rumor, all powerful. He was God, perfect. Morally excellent; always did the right thing, even if it hurt. He created all...all was his. And when what he created flopped and flailed he put a stop to it. Amara had destroyed many of his projects and worlds, but he had obliterated even more.

Humanity. Something he had created. Something he'd never tried to understand, something he would never understand. The good, the evil and yes, the determination. Chuck had created humanity in his likeness, and somehow he'd managed to create something better than even himself.

The ferocity of the life, the fragility of it. It actually scared Chuck a little bit. He could never figure out why Lucifer hated humanity but now he knew. Now he's pretty sure he understands, he's pretty sure at least...Lucifer was the best, the best of the arch Angels, the best of all the angels...the best of God's creations and he knew it...until humanity.

Humanity was everything angels weren't. Humanity was everything God was magnified a hundredfold. Passionate, independent, creative, loving, loyal...selfish. They did things for themselves. They made their own decisions. They decided what they wanted to believe, they decided who they believed in.

Chuck had given humans unlimited power and potential by allowing them that. If they decided they believed He didn't existed, then He didn't to them. If they believed they could be greater and bigger than ever before they worked at it hard enough until their dreams became reality.

Unlike God, who just gave himself the abilities to play guitar and speak French...humanity had actually created these things. Humanity taught themselves all these beautiful things. But even when Chuck gave himself the ability he still sucked pretty bad at it. (Though even Metatron had to admit he had a pretty good singing voice.)

But like Chuck's other creations humanity failed. They messed up...they sinned. And this disqualified them for him. He was God...all powerful and perfect. Humanity was nothing like him. Not proud, or distant...or perfect. Chuck was alone again in the big world he'd created. And he'd sacrificed everything for humanity, Lucifer was gone, defeated and banished...his Angels were doting and faithful and naive as usual.

He was bored, he was done creating...he wanted to create without the consequences of very real failures so he left heaven, he hid himself among the humans and he began to write. He wrote a lot, a lot of boring stuff. Like the stuffy old tablets. He wrote some poetry, he wrote some novels.

Writing was the only way he ever came close to understanding how humans worked and felt. And he wasn't very good at it at all. Then he started writing Supernatural. A few very 'special' humans loved those books. And Chuck had lost his belief in humanity so his faith in all the work he'd put into the Winchester line and the plan to save the world lost its spark for him.

He had been stupid enough to think he wouldn't get drug back into it.

Then he opened his door and found the two male model, handsome sons of bitches standing on his porch. And oh shit, he was screwed.

He'd helped them because despite himself, he'd fallen for the codependent brothers a

little while he'd been writing about them...and Lucifer was his issue too. After all he'd created him, created humanity and in so doing created the nightmare that was the Devil. So he helped enough to make him feel just and good like God should feel and then he disappeared forever.

Or it was supposed to be forever.

It was Dean Winchester's fault, all of this was. He was one of those practical humans, he only believed what he saw. And he was the righteous man, that was enough to spark Chuck's curiosity. And his soul was a work of spiritual art. The darkness and scars and crust of hell encasing the beautiful, wonderful light within that was supposed to save the world.

He defied the thought of God, of an all powerful being who took no responsibility for its actions and creations. In Dean Winchester's opinion if God did exist he was a loser and a coward...Dean had spent his whole life helping the people Chuck ignored. And try as he might Chuck couldn't hate him for it...he respected him...he was kind of in awe of him.

So it became habit to be aware of Dean Winchester and his brother's goings ons. And wow. Dudes covered ground...all the ground. And they couldn't just stop at Lucifer they had to release all the big bads. And it had been funny watching them scramble to fix it. They had amazingly done so!

Then Dean and Sam let Amara out and that was cutting it a little close to home. That was personal...that pissed him off. If they let his sister out...they deserved the fate she had planned for them.

Chuck couldn't destroy the world he'd created that he hated, but was also in awe over. Amara could do that...Amara could put him to rest too.

Over the years a lot of people had prayed to him. A lot of important, powerful people had asked him to join the fight, Angels, arch Angels...Crowley had asked him what he was up to a few times...Sam quit. But he always came back, he always believed in more, he always hoped.

The world cried out to him in anguish, cursed him in bitterness. Humanity pressed on, partied on, created more everyday. And every voice and thought fell on his ear.

Except for one voice.

Somehow Dean Winchester stayed above it all.

He had sent up a prayer, once upon a time, Chuck wasn't really sure if it was to him, or to heaven or to just anyone who was listening. Dean Winchester got desperate when it came to his brother. Chuck hadn't heard from him since then. And Dean Winchester had been through some serious crap and not once had he prayed to God.

So Chuck came up with a little inside joke, something he'd say to himself when someone sent up a prayer for him to show himself...to join the fight. Because he never would, ever. Dean was determined not to acknowledge him, Chuck was just as determined to never take up being God again.

So when it came up, when he'd think about getting back in the action, he'd laugh a little hysterically and shrug his shoulders and say, "When Dean Winchester prays."

When Dean Winchester prays it may or may not be time to pitch in.

And then the son of a bitch had prayed. More like yelled...but the point is it came to Chuck loud and clear. Dean Winchester had looked up to heaven, thought about God, acknowledged his existence and had spoken words.

Chuck had to appreciate the man. Of course only Sam would push him to it. So Dean was desperate and angry and his heart was near breaking. Chuck just had to laugh when he proceeded to call him names in the first sentence he'd ever spoken directly to him.

So fair enough. Metatron was right it was time not to give up. It was time to realize what he thought was a failure was just a mistake and humanity was continually trying to remedy it. Sam and Dean hadn't meant to release Amara and they were about to lose their very lives trying to fix it. It was time for Chuck to take a page out of humanity's book. It was time work hard and try.

Humanity did its part, the Angels did their part, even the demons behaved accordingly...Dean Winchester, like always had done his part, even though Chuck had thought it impossible. So he's pretty sure GOD can do his part too...

the end of this first part.

tbc...with something about the AMULET and Amara's promise to Dean that he will survive!

THX, AND PLEASE REVIEW! ;)

Part Two.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dean asks.

"I'm fine Dean," Sam shrugs, looking slightly miserable despite God's showing himself, "I think HE completely healed everyone."

Dean looks closely at his face. The disappointment and confusion and anger is practically coming off his little brother in tsunami like waves. He knows this has to be hard for Sam. After all the years they had spent all alone suffering through unreal circumstances together while the younger Winchester cried out in his heat to his maker. And God couldn't be troubled to answer, not even any of the many and varied times the Winchester's had been working their asses off to save HIS world.

Sam is angry, and exasperated. And as he thinks about the amulet fisted in Dean's hand he feels both sorrow and relief. He'd been waiting years, waiting years and years for the right time to give the amulet back to his brother. There'd been times he thought they were both ready, but he'd always lost his courage and decided a little more time wouldn't hurt. He wanted to be dead sure his brother wanted it back. He wanted it to be the ideal moment, he wanted to seal the fact that they were the closest to getting back to where they had been when Dean threw the amulet away.

And that had been stolen from him. Sure they had God. But Sam thinks he's probably allowed to be a touch put out, he did just almost die. So God was there. Had heard all his prayers, had ignored all of them...and now the amulet lighted the way to him.

Sam could only hope it was a sign. A sign that the Winchester brother's love would light the way to survive the show down of the history of the world they were going to witness very soon. Because of course that's why God was there right? To fight Amara? Please, he thinks. And he's not praying, he's kind of just projecting thoughts to calm himself. Please, let him help us.

He doesn't want to lose Dean.

When he'd been infected he could hear Amara too. Could hear her promise to Dean. He would live on...everyone else, everything else...would be gone. He had finally felt the tendrils of her power. He could feel it silky, and seductive, sneaking it's way into his body, slinking through his blood. It blanketed his senses and wrapped his soul in the primitive desire to kill. It was one of the strongest urges he's ever felt, but he fought it.

He locked his gaze on Dean, on his heartbroken expression, focuses on his hands in his and in his hair. Amara in his head is confident Dean would have left him soon...would have chosen her over Sam and everything else. She says she is not to be resisted, she says she is calling to Dean...she says he will give in.

And Sam, feeling the strength of the urge in his own body, knows she is right. Knows no matter how amazing Dean is, how well he avoids her. It is in him to give in to her, it's his nature because it's her nature to subdue and lure him in.

Amara and Dean will be one, they will be together...and the only way to stop it is to kill her.

And Sam is so afraid, so afraid because there is no one to aid them, there is no ideas to act on, there is just the inevitable that Dean will leave him, and Amara will destroy everything. And so Sam feels the infection running through his body strong and primal and he is willing to realize his end...but Dean there beside him will have no such thing, Dean beside him, swears he will be with him, swears he will never leave...yells at God.

Like only Dean would, and Dean calls Him a name and if Sam had't felt like complete crap he'd have laughed...and the next second the foreign feelings in his body are gone, Dean is staring at him with tears in his eyes and a disbelieving face.

And then he feels it warm against his skin through his clothes. And Dean is reaching for the glowing object in his pocket. It represents the Winchester brother's love for each other...Sam had honestly forgotten it had any other purpose. Dean is blindsided and he's given Sam a wet, a-million-miles-deep of love look as he's holding the brightly glowing necklace and he's looking around suspiciously...because HE is here.

Dean helps Sam to his feet and they're stumbling outside, blinking in the sunlight, watching in amazement as all the dead and infected people climb back to their feet and look over themselves, marveling over the fact that their skin is clear. And he doesn't realize it as fast as Dean, he feels his brother fist a hand in the hem of his jacket. And then he sees him.

That god-awful author that had bummed off their lives to write an embarrassingly unpopular series of books.

The god-awful author that the amulet was glowing for.

He's speechless as Chuck turns around and gives them his cute, quirky smile, "We should probably talk." Is what comes out of his mouth...and Sam thinks, he's God, he should know that was not the best choice of words. Sam is afraid he's going to have to heave Dean off the man. But his big brother contains himself, having earned a respect for God's power since seeing Amara and Lucifer's.

Instead he just clenches his hands into fists and grinds his teeth, hissing through them. "You...SON OF A BITCH!"

All Sam can do is smile nervously, shrug his shoulders embarrassedly...and agree.

...

Sam had almost died. A lot of people had almost died and Dean was largely pissed off. Amara had sent her deathly fog and almost offed his brother while promising him forever and wow, that made him mad. Then God showed up and;

"We should probably talk." ? Dean's mind is a blank of anger and disbelief.

And Sam had the amulet. His little brother had the amulet...the one action he regretted the most in his life, the one thing he regretted deeply forever and ever. He'll never erase that look of hurt and disbelief on Sam's face from his mind's eye. And now he realizes Sam's had it all the years. And now Dean knows that hurt he saw on Sam's face has been festering as been living on every time his little brother looked at or touched the necklace.

Which knowing Sam like he did was probably everyday. How many hunts had Sam carried the amulet into as a toon of their devotion to each other, or hoping it would protect Dean even though he no longer wore it around his neck? Dean's heart ached for his little brother, and he was filled with a self-loathing that he should be familiar and comfortable with now.

And Amara was sending messages to him by dying people. Were her whispers in his mind no long enough? Was the pull wrapped around his soul gravitating him towards her not enough? He had to constantly fight her mentally and spiritually and now she was pursuing him physically catching Sam in the crossfire and THAT was unacceptable.

He was pissed off at her to say the least but he had yet to establish any permanent hostile feelings towards her. He's starting to think she's right, she won't be resisted, he will be with her...and Sam will die. And for some reason, that frustrates him increasingly, he still can't hate her. All he knows is she has to die in order to escape his and Sam's fate and they need God in order to do that.

So Dean settles for, "You SON OF A BITCH!"

Turns out Chuck's plan wasn't so much to talk as to shag ass to the bunker to get out of Amara's line of fire. Predictably he rides the whole way in the back seat of the impala seemingly basking in the angry, bitter, awkward silence. Sam and Dean spend the ride cutting eyes at each other, until Dean finally gives in and turns on some music.

Back at the bunker Dean sees Chuck settled in a room and drags himself down the hallways stopping in his brother's bedroom door. There he sits, on his bed, slumped over his own lap. Dean thinks he looks a little lost, definitely sad and distant and the big brother can't have that.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dean asks.

"I'm fine Dean," Sam shrugs, looking slightly miserable despite God's showing himself, "I think HE completely healed everyone."

Dean nods, understands the miserable, bitter look. He walks further into Sam's room and leans against the chest of drawers. "How does someone have that much power and yet do nothing, right?"

Sam nods, Dean of course, 'getting' him.

"I know it's hard to understand," Dean supplies.

Sam laughs bitterly, "There is no understanding it, He is God because of his power, not because of his responsibility or his capability. Me and you are both, more responsible and sensible then he is. He's freaking God! It's scary, is what it is, it's very scary."

Dean raises his eyebrows. Should have known little brother had worked it all out and conveniently labeled it for them. And wow, did it help, Dean felt like he could deal with Chuck now. But the rest of the mess still had to be sorted out.

Sam had worked out the God thing and was feeling pretty sensibly about it, Dean was thankful for that, which meant the thing causing that lost expression was something else entirely. He walks forward slowly, pulling the object from his pocket.

He loops the amulet around his finger and let's it fall to hang like he had that fateful day. Sam swallows thickly, watching like a scared animal out of the corner of his eyes. At Dean's silence he holds out a trembling upturned hand.

The amulet falls cold and heavy to his palm. And Dean thinks the broken, desperate look on his little brother's face will rip his heart clear out of his chest. He watches as Sam pulls his bottom lip between his teeth to hide the way his chin trembles, but can't hide the tears welling in those puppy-like beauties.

He closes a fist around it and pulls the hand into his lap, and then looks up at Dean, feeling like he's dying, handing Dean the knife to do the deed by. "You don't want it." He says, trying not to sound so needy, or hurt, or desperate. But it comes out final and heart wrenching with a sob he can't cough back.

"No, Sammy," Dean soothes, going to his knees in front of his distressed sibling in a moment. "I want it when you're ready to trust me with it again." His thumb slips under Sam's eye catching a sparkling tear, and then brushing soothingly over his cheekbone.

At Dean's tender tones Sam feels something deep in him finally break. Something that has been tied in knots since the day Dean threw the amulet away. It's the realization that Dean wants the amulet back but doesn't think he's worthy of having it again that breaks him apart.

"I thought," he mumbles, looking down, "I thought..."

Dean catches him under the chin with a hand and lifts his head to look him in the face. "Wha's that, Sammy?"

Sam bites the side of his mouth, letting the tears flow freely down his face. "I thought you didn't want it anymore..."

"Oh baby boy," Dean mumbles as he pulls Sam to him with a hand on the back of his neck. "C'mere."

Sam lets himself melt into his big brother. He hides his face in his neck, a hand gripped in his shirt, keeping him close. He sobs in huge breathes of Dean scented air. Relishes in the feeling of his chest expanding with his own breaths, lets the sound of his whispered words just beside his ear reassure him that's Dean's there, that Amara hasn't got him yet. That he's there choosing Sam.

"I meant it Sammy, I got you and I'm never letting you go," he mumbles into the silky strands he declares so adamantly he wants to cut off. "I swear since the day I carried you out of your burning nursery I'm never letting you go."

"Can never let you go either, Dean," Sam mumbles into Dean's shirt, "Would have rather died today than lived after she takes you."

"Not going anywhere," Dean says firmly, fingers smoothing Sam's hair and sighing in relief as he feels Sam relaxing, his hiccuping, gasps leaving wetness on his shirt. But he doesn't care, loves having him here where he belongs...safe and alive in his arms.

"Okay," he says after a minute. "C'mon, up we get, you need to go to bed, almost died again today."

Sam sits up but doesn't move to get ready for bed, blinks up at Dean with a wet face. Dean wipes the wetness away with his thumb on one side of his face.

"What's wrong, Sammy?" He asks, knowing his brother so perfectly.

Sam looks down a touch shyly, biting his lip, "If I'm okay now you'll go."

"I'll stay Sammy," Dean supplies quickly, sitting down in the bed facing Sam's dejected profile.

"I'll do what ever you want, Sammy." He says softly, watching those eyes that have always owned him gaze at him pleadingly. Sam is grown and an amazing man, but he is the same kid to Dean most of the time. The same one who needed his diapers changed, his bottle fed to him, a lullaby more often than just at bedtime. The same kid who was scared of the dark and hid in his shoulder, who cried in loneliness at the absence of both parents and clung to Dean in replacement.

Now with the amulet in question Dean sees that same child, the baby who counted on him, who needed him for everything.

"Whatever you need, Sammy," he soothes, scooting a little closer to him on the mattress.

Sam looks at him, his face painfully sincere and hopeful, "I need you to wear this, I want you to wear this, Dee." He says, his voice catching, hand trembling as he holds out the amulet.

Dean feels tears coming to his eyes. "I can't promise not to hurt you, Sammy."

"I know that," Sam says, "It's not about a stupid promise, or representing how you feel about me anymore..." He leans to catch Dean's eyes, "Now it's about how we've gone so low, and somehow we've worked back to this, we are better and we are stronger...it's about how I've proven myself to you...it's about how we trust each other again."

Dean nods and Sam nearly starts bawling again with relief. He reaches out to hand the amulet but his brother simply lowers his head. Sam slips the leather chord over his hair and lets it fall around his neck. The heavy bronze head falls with a 'thunk' onto Dean's chest bone where it belongs. It's a familiar feeling to Dean even though it's been years, it's home there, it makes Dean Winchester feel more complete than he has in...well...since he threw the necklace away.

Relief floods through Sam, killing his adrenaline rush. He finally lets himself go, slumping against his pillow, hooded, sleepy eyes watching his brother and the way Dean looks at the amulet with wet, glistening eyes. Sam's long fingers trace the necklace down to where it rests against Dean's t-shirt, his eyes looking at it almost wonderingly in awe.

"We're going to win this." Dean says in hushed tones, though he's not quite sure.

And even though Sam doesn't quite believe it either, he nods.

"At least you're wearing something now you can show that bitch you belong to someone else other than her."

Dean raises his eyebrows at Sam's vehement speech.

"Feeling a tad possessive there, Sammy are we?" He asks, a smile playing on his lips.

"You're my brother Dean," he says, deadly serious, "I let her out to save you, you can be damned sure we can put her back in to save you too."

"Let's hope we can end her once and for all."

Sam shrugs, no need to heighten the stakes anymore unrealistically than necessary and they only needed to shut the darkness up again, not kill her to save Dean...right?

Would Dean ever be free of her? Of that nagging feeling like someone was constantly looking over his shoulder, the itch he felt sometimes on his arm and then would panic for moment thinking it was the mark. Would she and her mark always haunt him...would she always have this pull over him?

They don't know...and they have no answers at all right now. But Dean knows as Sam's fingers drift over the amulet one last time before he passes out to sleep the night away, that she was going to have to pull pretty damn hard to rip him away from this little brother and this feeling of absolute perfection.

the end.

Thanks for reading! PLEASE REVIEW! ;)

Can't wait until Wednesday! What is Amara going to do to Dean and Sam? How are they going to save Cas? And where does Chuck really stand?


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